


Call Waiting

by tresa_cho



Series: '69 Chevy 'verse [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: '69 Chevy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, BDSM, M/M, Other, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tresa_cho/pseuds/tresa_cho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy is a struggling med student who works at a speciality call centre to help supplement his school costs. One horrifying call during a routine night at work changes his life forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the buckleup_meme on LJ
> 
> [05/16/2012] ETA: Now with a sequel, and the start of a potential series.

"Heartbreak Phone Bank, this is Lucius, how may I assist you?" Leonard drawled into the headset's mic, twirling in his chair absently. He fiddled with the metal ring puzzle in his hands as he tipped his head back against the chair back, waiting for the perverted mouth-breathing to pause on the other end.

"Looking for advice, actually," came the response finally. Rough voice, slight lisp, inconsistent use of pronouns... Leonard would hazard a guess late twenties, white male. Probably somewhat over-muscled but with enough sense to find the hotline. Not terribly dim, but not terribly smart either.

"Go for it, stud," Leonard purred into the mic, freeing one of the rings from his toy. He flicked it onto his desk casually and twisted on the remaining ones in frustration.

"My submissive likes to play these... games," the man started. Slightly nasal voice, probably a smoker. Or ex-smoker.

"Mmm, you like a challenge, then?" Leonard questioned. "Do go on."

"He likes it rough, but he won't listen to my orders and he won't obey."

Leonard rolled his eyes. "Is that part of the game?" he asked.

"Partly. I'm running out of ideas for breaking him. He's impossible to train properly."

Leonard sat up a bit straighter, pausing his chair spinning to lean on his desk. _Break?_ "Have you established a set of rules? If I knew more about the situation I can help better," he said into the mic.

"We don't need rules. I own him, plain and simple." The voice on the other end lowered a notch, turning gravelly and slightly sadistic. Leonard felt a chill slide down his spine. "I've moved him away from his family. They kept giving him ideas, yea? And he has no friends down here. I won't let him make any. He's enough to handle, could you imagine a whole posse of his buddies over here, writhing around on the floor?"

"Maybe he doesn't like what you're doing. Have you tried implementing a safeword? Something he can say if he wants all action to stop? If he feels like he has a bit of power he may enjoy the games more," Leonard said hesitantly. He slowly moved his fingers to his laptop's power button, booting it up.

"Safeword? Why would you give a submissive any power? That's not the point of a submissive."

Leonard narrowed his eyes, his ear hot as if he could feel the monster breathing on him through the phone line. He quickly signed onto his computer and pinged his cop buddy. _Keep this on the DL but I need you to look up an address for me._

 _**go for it, buddy** _

"What else have you tried?" Leonard asked casually, while typing the phone number of the caller into the IM box on his computer.

"Well, I've started to lock him in the basement when I'm away, to keep him away from the windows. Who knows what neighbours will do while you're not home? Can't trust anybody nowadays. In my old neighbourhood, some bastard broke into my house and tried to kidnap him. That's partly why we moved."

"Uh huh," Leonard acknowledged without much passion. If he talked any more, he'd completely lose it. The hold on his anger was tenuous enough as it was. Any little spark would set it off.

 _**here's the address. no record** _

Leonard leaned forward in his chair, hacking out a quick _thanks_ before writing down the address on paper.

"So, do you have any suggestions? I'm at the end of my rope here."

"Yes," Leonard said blithely. "I have a suggestion. You, sir, can go fuck yourself." And he severed the connection, tearing the headset from his ears. Bobby, sitting in the cubicle one over, popped his head over the divider curiously.

"You all right, McCoy?" he asked. Leonard stood, sweeping his bag onto his shoulder.

"Nope, definitely not. I'll be back in a bit. If she finds out, tell Lenora I'm sorry," Leonard said as he skirted his chair and made for the door.

"What did you do!?" Bobby called after him. Leonard ignored him. The door shutting effectively cut off the rest of his calls.

  
Leonard fumbled with his keys at his car, and finally slid into the driver's seat. His '69 Chevy roared to life like the clunky, beautiful piece of junk it was, and he powered it out of his office parking lot and onto the freeway. His fingers gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grasp to stop his hands from shaking. Whether rage or nervousness, he couldn't tell, but it flooded his body to the point where he saw a hint of red along the edge of his vision.

He pulled to a stop at the address Rick had found for him and turned the car off, reaching for the med kit beneath his seat. He flicked it open and grabbed the sedative that was usually used to calm trauma victims. He filled a syringe before slipping it into his pocket, and then grabbed a few large bandages, a salve, and a roll of gauze, stuffing them all into the pockets of his leather jacket, before forcing his car door open to step into the chill night air. He slammed the door shut and made his way up the front steps of the quaint-looking rancher, rapping on the door in lieu of using the door chime.

He put his hands into his pockets, fingers wrapping around the syringe when he heard footsteps approach the door. He heard the sound of a deadbolt shift, and the door opened.

"Help you?" a gruff voice issued.

"Howdy," Leonard started with a wave of his free hand. "Listen, my car stalled, I was wondering if I could use your phone?"

"That your piece of crap sitting on my mailbox?" the man asked with a nod towards Leonard's pick up.

"Yea, that's the bitch," Leonard agreed with a slight chuckle. "She's a bit temperamental."

"All right. But don't touch anything." The man stepped aside and opened the door wider. Leonard hopped into the house. The man moved to shut the door, and before the deadbolt slid into place the needle was in his throat.

"Easy," Leonard murmured, shoving the man hard against the door as he tried to flail. The sedative took effect instantly. The man's head thudded against the door as his eyes drooped to half-mast. "Thatta boy," Leonard whispered. He stepped back and let the brute fall to the floor.

He had approximately half an hour.

He sheathed the syringe in his jacket pocket, pressing forward into the hall silently. Basement. Looking for a basement.

He paused. Something banged against a pipe under his feet. He glanced down, and then saw a door to his left. He twisted the knob, and the door revealed a staircase leading into darkness. Taking the stairs slowly, he reached the bottom and flicked the light on. Harsh florescence lit the room. Leonard swallowed his stomach back down at what he saw.

A man hung from one of the support beams, a curl of rope loose around his throat. His arms strained, fingers wrapped around the lower part of the I-beam, keeping the noose from choking him to death. His face was red with exertion, and his mouth duct-taped shut.

Leonard almost tripped over himself in his haste to cross the room. He dragged a chair, feet scraping the cold cement, and clambered up onto it. He grasped his pocketknife and flicked it open, sawing quickly through the noose, letting it fall along the man's shoulders so that he'd know he could let go. As soon as the rope touched skin he dropped, crumpling to the floor.

Leonard almost fell off the chair, surprised, and dropped to his knees beside the man. The man's chest heaved suddenly, his entire body jerking, snorting out liquid. Leonard ripped the duct-tape off his mouth and the man vomited on the ground, gasping and choking for air.

"Okay, you're okay. Breathe," Leonard murmured, rubbing the man's back firmly. "Get it up. You're fine." Rage seared Leonard's vision once more at the man he had dumped on the floor upstairs. Leaving this man to drown in his own vomit... Death was too pleasant. "Shh, you're all right."

  
He grabbed the man's red, shaking hands and sawed through the rough twine that locked the wrists together. He had seen predicament bondage before. Hell, he'd instructed predicament bondage before. This... This was so far beyond sadistic it was criminal. He rubbed circulation back into the man's hands, hoping there hadn't been any permanent damage. Leonard grabbed the rope from around the man's neck and yanked it over his head, throwing it to the furthest corner he could reach. The man actually gasped when he did it, though he'd barely touched skin.

The man looked at him for the first time, and Leonard felt sick. This wasn't a man. This was a fucking _kid_. Young, probably no more than twenty-one, with incredible blue eyes, blood-shot from strain. "Christ, kid," Leonard murmured, mostly to himself. "How'd you get into this mess?"

He didn't expect an answer and he didn't receive one. He tugged the bandages from his pockets and worked the gauze around the kid's wrists, stopping blood-loss as best he could. He shucked his jacket and put it over the kid's shoulders as he stood, looking for clothes. There was nothing in this 'dungeon' but torture toys. Leonard scowled.

"Wait here, kid, I'll be back for ya," Leonard said. The kid stared at him, uncomprehending, huddled under Leonard's jacket, soaking it with blood. Walking away from him was one of the hardest things Leonard's ever done in his life.

He bounded up the stairs two at a time, almost sliding at the top, and bolted to the bedroom. He yanked a few sets of clothes from the dresser drawers and paused at the sight of a pair of leather gloves resting on top of the dresser. He reached for them, rage flaring inside him once more. It was physically hard for him to breathe past it. He tucked the clothes under his arm and slid the gloves on, making his way back to the hall with the basement door. The monster's legs were splayed across the hall still, unmoving. From where he stood, he could hear the kid's choked whimpers rising up from the basement. Rage wiped out his vision for a moment.

He dropped the clothes at the door and went to the kitchen. He tugged the icebox open and grabbed one of the ice trays. Leonard coolly snapped a few ice cubes loose, picking them up with a gloved hand, and made his way to the front door. He knelt beside the monster and pulled his jaw down with his free hand. He dropped three ice cubes into his mouth and pressed them back, down into the man's throat, fitting them snugly until they could go no further. Leonard placed his palm over the man's chest. No movement. He'd be dead in minutes with no traceable cause.

Shaking slightly, he returned to the kitchen, dumped the ice tray and refilled it with fresh water before setting it back into the freezer. He made his way back to the basement door, scooping up the clothes and pounding down the stairs. The kid was sprawled on the floor, fallen to his side under Leonard's jacket. "Hey, kid, we have to go," he murmured, crouching beside him. The kid's eyes opened and he shied violently, shoving at Leonard with a hoarse cry. Leonard cursed when he realised he was still wearing the gloves. He tore them off and tossed the kid his clothes. "Put these on. We're leaving."

The kid scurried into the clothes, pulling Leonard's jacket tight around him. "Come on," Leonard murmured. He hooked a hand under the kid's elbow and guided him up the stairs. He still shook violently, and his legs were weak, so Leonard took most of his weight as they moved. They reached the front door and the kid bucked against his hold, struggling. "No, no, it's all right," Leonard gasped, tightening his grip. "He's asleep. He's not gonna hurt you. Quick, now, come on. He won't hurt you." Leonard tugged the kid to the door, frustrated when he still resisted.

"Look, kid, I've gotcha, okay?" Leonard murmured, one foot out the door, the other still in the hall. "He's not gonna get up. He's not gonna come after you. Come with me. Please." His grip was tight on the kid's elbow. The kid shot one last look at the man on the floor, unwittingly choking to death, and followed Leonard outside.


	2. Chapter 2

Leonard hustled him down to his truck and tugged the cab door open, practically shoving the kid inside. He rounded the Chevy and yanked open the driver's side, sliding into the car. He forced the engine to life and took off, not once looking back.

The drive to Leonard's place was silent. He didn't even feel comfortable turning the radio on. The pounding of the road under his tires throbbed in his ears, pacing the frantic pounding of his heart. He glanced over at the kid a few times, but his eyes were closed, head wobbling with the curve of the road.

He pulled up to his apartment complex and killed the engine. He placed both hands on the wheel and lowered his forehead onto it, sucking in deep breaths. It felt like he couldn't inhale deep enough, or the air was made of molasses. He had killed someone. Cut off his air and left him to die. His body shook. _Christ..._

Cool skin slipping along the back of his hand caught his attention. He jerked his head up and saw one of the kid's abraded hands covering his, working it free of its death grip on the wheel to curl around his palm. He glanced sharply at the kid, who was staring at him solemnly. As if he knew what Leonard had done.

"Okay," Leonard heard himself say. "Okay, kid. Let's get you inside and cleaned up."

He led the kid up to his place, locking the door behind them. The kid stood in the hall while he walked through the apartment and flicked on every single light he owned, casting random bursts of shadow across his furniture and effects. He made his way back to the kid after snatching up his more hefty medical kit. "Come sit," he said. The kid complied immediately, sitting in the chair Leonard pulled from the table.

Leonard tugged a floor lamp over, focusing the beam over the kid's body. He reached up to tug his jacket from the kid's shoulders, and the kid sat quietly, allowing himself to be divested. Under the white florescence of the lamp, the marks on the kid's body stood out sharper than they had in the 'dungeon'. "Jesus christ," Leonard breathed, running his hands over the kid's chest. The kid still had fingerprints bruised into his skin in multiple places. Leonard could see knife marks, sloppily cared for and therefore sloppily healed. Needle holes, burns, and at least three separate cigarette imprints that he could see. There were undoubtedly more hidden under the kid's trousers.

The kid was bleeding through the make-shift bandages he had slapped on at the 'dungeon'. Leonard inhaled deeply, getting hold of himself, and set to work.

  
The kid had a stock of muscle, which was good. It meant the monster had at least been feeding him. It also meant there was less chance of severe damage deeper than the skin level. The monster probably had not known enough how to cause serious damage with any of his toys, which was for the better. Still, there was a lot of damage that could be done that wasn't physical...

"I'll make you dinner," Leonard said, tossing his equipment back into his kit. "Then you're going to bed. Let the disinfectant do it's work, and tomorrow you can have a proper shower." Leonard stood, nudging the kit under the table and out of the way until he could get the strength to clean it up. He stepped into the kitchen to whip up something quick, full of protein and nutrients that the kid would need after a rough scene.

The kid was falling asleep in his chair when Leonard put the plate before him. "Here, eat," Leonard said sharply. The kid jerked, eyes flashing open as he grabbed the plate and slid from the chair to kneel on the floor. Leonard froze, shocked, as the kid started nuzzling the food like a dog. "Hang on, kid, no," Leonard burst out. The kid stiffened, wide, terrified eyes reaching his. "No. You're not... You're not in trouble. You can eat at the table. Here. Come on, now," Leonard murmured, trying to breathe through his initial surprise. He lifted the plate from the floor and put it on the table. "Up."

The kid climbed hesitantly into the chair, watching Leonard with openly wary eyes as he picked up a fork and waited to be reprimanded. Leonard just stared at him, nodding to the plate with his arms loosely folded across his chest.

The kid took a hesitant bite, and then another, and, when it became clear Leonard wasn't going to do anything, devoured the entire plate. He practically inhaled the glass of juice Leonard set out for him. When he had finished, Leonard helped him stand on weak legs, and walked him to the bedroom, where Leonard's queen called to him. He gently lowered the kid onto the mattress, who sank into the softness with a gentle sigh. He was already asleep.

"I'll be damned," Leonard muttered to himself. He drew the covers up over the kid's body and quietly reached into the night stand drawer beside the bed. He pulled out the small pistol he kept there and clicked the magazine into it before returning to the living area. Something deep in his gut told him the kid would try to run. He sank down against the door to his apartment and sat, waiting, gun gripped loosely in his hand.

Sure enough, he was startled awake by the solid thud of a medical textbook hitting the ground. The kid froze, caught. Leonard grimaced and forced himself to his feet despite aching muscles. "Back to bed," he murmured, shooing the kid with one hand, sticking the pistol into his belt with the other. "Go on. If you really want to leave tomorrow, I'll let you go, but you need a solid night's rest, and you need to get cleaned up. Not-Quite-Doctor's orders." The kid let himself be escorted back to the bedroom, and into bed. He didn't try to leave again that night.

Leonard woke up with a migraine and a stiff neck when the sun blasted into his eyes through his window. He groaned, trying to roll his head out of the way and failed, tipping himself over in the process. He hit the ground with a muffled grunt. "Coffee..." he pleaded to nobody in particular.

Something warm pressed to his cheek. He jerked and opened his eyes. The kid crouched in front of him, holding a mug of something hot out towards him, willing him to take it. Leonard pushed himself up, cocking an eyebrow, and took the cup. Coffee. From a coffeepot. From _his_ coffeepot, no less. "Er. Thanks," Leonard said, lifting his mug in gratitude. The kid stared at him unnervingly, his eyes glinting in the warm sunlight pouring into the apartment. _Christ_ the kid had blue eyes. "Got a name, kid?"

The kid opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it, pursing his lips, before opening again. He coughed, one hand going to his throat. Leonard reached out and grasped his hand, pulling it away from freshly-healing skin. "Okay, so you can't talk. That's fine. Can you read and write?" Leonard asked.

  
The kid nodded.

"Grab my phone," Leonard said, gesturing to the kitchen counter. The kid snatched it up and handed it to him. Leonard pulled up a notepad application and held it out for the kid to take. A few thumbswipes later, the kid handed it back. " 'James Kirk'," Leonard read. The kid nodded. "Jim?" Leonard prodded. The kid smiled, something so shudderingly heart-wrenching Leonard almost stopped breathing. "Jimmy?" The smile vanished, and a sharp shudder took the kid's body. "Okay. No. Jim it is, then," Leonard agreed. "Were you born mute?"

Jim shook his head slowly, lower lip finding its way between his teeth. "Something recent?" A nod 'yes'. "Disease?" A shake 'no'. "Do you know what happened?" Another shake. Leonard settled against the door, mug tight in both hands as if it were a lifeline. "Has he ever put you in the hospital?" he asked, voice low. Jim blinked at him slowly before answering. _No_.

Leonard wasn't sure if he believed him.

"I want to take you in to get you looked at," Leonard said gently. "I'm just a student, there may be some things I missed." Fear spiked in Jim's eyes and his entire body locked tight, kneeling on the ground across from Leonard. "Jim, if there's anything internal, I can't see it with what I have here. I'd rather know for sure that you're all right." Jim shook his head violently. "Stop, you're going to shake the gauze loose," Leonard sighed. Jim stopped, pressing the bandage around his throat back into place. "Have you showered yet?" Jim shook his head, cautious about meeting Leonard's gaze. "Go hop in the shower. I'll make you breakfast."

Jim waited until Leonard had pushed himself achingly up from the floor, walking to the kitchen using the walls for support until he could get blood flowing to most of his body. Leonard heard the bathroom door open and shut, and the flick of the water spout that rattled all the pipes in the building. Leonard cracked a few eggs and dumped them into a hot skillet. He felt like omelettes today.

The gun dug into the base of his spine.

His phone rang, startling him, and he grabbed it off the counter, pushing it against his ear. "Yea?" he grunted.

"Dude, what the hell happened!?" Bobby yelled from the other end. "You never came back last night! Lendora is actually worried, we were about to call the cops!"

Leonard's blood ran cold. "No, no, I'm fine. Look, I have a family emergency. I'm going to need a few days, is that all right? Can I talk to Lendora?"

"McCoy, what's going on, are you all right?" Lendora's soft tones found their way into his ear.

"Yea, yea, I'm fine. Look, I need a few days. Something... bad happened," he murmured into the receiver.

"Sure, McCoy, sure. We were really worried. Walking out isn't like you. Let us know when you're ready to come back, all right? Be safe."

"Thanks." The line closed and Leonard stared at the phone in his hands, trying to keep his breathing even. The sizzling from the eggs filled the air, pressing in close, cutting off all other sounds. Leonard stared at the eggs. The air was suddenly thick and heavy, hard to breathe. Hard to...

  
A sharp sting exploded against the side of his cheek and he gasped. His vision snapped back into focus, and he found himself staring up at the ceiling behind Jim's head. Jim's face twisted with anxiety, pale as he stared down at Leonard's face. Down?

Leonard pushed himself up on his elbows. He was on the floor of his kitchen. The cup of celery he had cut was strewn on the floor, the glass shattered. His cheek hurt.

"Did you slap me?" Leonard choked out, voice breaking. Jim nodded sharply. "Thanks. I think." Leonard rubbed his cheek, the sting fading to a low throb. He inhaled and exhaled slowly, testing his lungs. He could breathe. Ugh. Panic attack. He grabbed for the counter and hauled himself to his feet. Jim followed, hands hovering in case he fell again. "I'm okay. I'm fine." Leonard waved him away. He leaned hard on the counter, glancing at what was sure to be a mess of burnt eggs. Jim must have moved the eggs off the hot burner and turned the top off. The eggs weren't burnt. In fact, they were just about ready to be folded.

The scrape of glass against tile caught his attention. He turned to see Jim gathering up the shattered remains of his measuring cup. Jim wordlessly dumped the glass into the trash can. "Ready for breakfast?" Leonard asked, trying to lift the heavy blanket of unease that seemed to have settled over the kitchen. Jim nodded. "Go set the table for omelettes."

They ate in silence. Leonard could feel Jim's eyes on him the entire time, and couldn't bring himself to meet the kid's gaze. He glared fiercely at the paper on the table, reading the articles for the third time to take his mind off the veritable stranger he had killed for last night.

Last night.

Last night was Tuesday.

His eyes snapped to the clock. " _Shit_!" he burst out, slamming his way backwards from the table with such force he knocked his chair over. Jim jumped, startled, and got up, trying to follow. Leonard completely ignored him, practically lunging under his bed to grasp his backpack. "Shit, shit, shit." He was so fucking late.

Jim followed him silently, eyes slightly widened as he watched Leonard frantically gather his things. Leonard snatched his keys off the hook by the door and bolted out of the apartment. Jim hurried after him, pounding down the four flights of stairs to the parking lot. Leonard wasn't even fully aware he was being followed. He hopped into the driver's side and jabbed the key into the ignition, giving it a sharp wrench. The engine sputtered. And sputtered. And sputtered.

"No, no, no, not right now. Don't do this to me baby," Leonard murmured fervently. "Gotta test today, babe, start for me." The engine didn't give. His girl coughed and fell silent. Leonard slammed his hand against the wheel in frustration. A no show for the test meant an automatic zero.

Something banged on the hood of his girl. Leonard glanced up to see Jim standing at the front of the car. He slammed his hand on the hood again. Leonard reached under his chair and tugged the hood release. Jim lifted the hood and spent a few minutes doing something. Leonard held his breath.

Jim slammed the hood and tapped it lightly. Heart in his throat, Leonard twisted the key again. His baby roared to life. Giddy with relief, Leonard gasped out a laugh. "Get in, get in!" he urged. Jim didn't have to be told twice.

  
He got to the exam site with half an hour to spare, which meant he was able to finish the test except one or two questions. He exited the test room with a massive sigh, and glanced down to see Jim propped against the wall, grinning up at him. He gave Jim a thumbs-up, which the kid returned before clambering to his feet.

"Jim, since we're here, will you come with me to see a doctor?" Leonard asked. Throngs of students pushed past them, shuffling them to the centre of the hall amidst two lines of traffic. Jim's hands rested lightly on his arms, the gentle touch grounding him through the intensity of noise and human contact. Jim finally nodded, a quick, sharp motion that Leonard almost missed. "I'll be with you the whole time, and I trust him, all right?"

Leonard led Jim through the flocks of stressed students towards the hospital rooms, and straight to the office of one Doctor Geoff M'Benga. "Hey, Geoff, can you help me for a sec?" Leonard stuck his head in the office. Geoff finished biting into his sandwich and nodded, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. Leonard pulled Jim into the room and closed the door. "This is Jim Kirk."

Geoff's eyes bulged. "Jim Kirk?" he choked slightly on his meal. "James Tiberius Kirk?" Leonard frowned.

"Yes, you know him?"

Geoff stood, rounding his desk quickly. "Don't you read? The Kirk kid was kidnapped a few months back from New York. It was all over the news."

Jim looked distinctly uncomfortable at the attention, and had stiffened almost painfully. Leonard stepped between him and Geoff. "Geoff, please. I need your help."

"You have to call his mother," Geoff went on. "Let her know he's safe-"

"Geoff!" Leonard barked. Geoff snapped his mouth shut. "I don't know he's safe. I did a preliminary exam, but I'm no doctor. I need you to look him over and make sure I didn't miss anything." Geoff nodded.

"Come on, son, let's go down to one of the examination rooms, shall we?" He ushered them out of his office and down the hall. Once he had safely cocooned them in an examination room, Geoff turned to Jim. "Mind taking off your shirt for me, son?"

Jim glanced at Leonard, who nodded encouragingly. Jim stripped his shirt- Leonard's shirt- off slowly and let it fall on the bench. Geoff whistled low, his eyebrows furrowing. Leonard approached him, arms folded over his chest. "Someone did a number on him," Geoff pointed out needlessly.

"I'm aware," Leonard growled. Jim flicked his eyes between them, a small, amused smile on his lips. He lifted his hands and made a few quick motions with them in the air over his chest. Geoff's eyebrows hit his hairline. He laughed and then _his_ hands were moving as well. "You know sign language!?" Leonard burst out. They both glanced at him curiously. "Both of you!" Leonard jabbed an accusing finger at both of them.

"My niece is deaf," Geoff explained. Jim flashed his hands. "He and his brother learned because his mother told them to." Geoff smirked. "You should probably learn too, if you're taking care of him," Geoff signed, matching his words to the movement of his hands. Leonard scowled, but with the way Jim's eyes glittered, he couldn't stay angry long. "Open," Geoff said, pulling a tongue depressor from his pocket. Jim obediently dropped his jaw.

"He says his loss of speech is recent," Leonard said quietly. Geoff nodded, lowering the tongue depressor onto the bench. He pulled down the gauze around Jim's throat and gently touched the glands under his jaw bone.

"Apart from the surface abrasions, I can't feel anything wrong," Geoff said, frowning. "He seems fine, physically. You did a good job patching him up. If you want, I can schedule some tests. Maybe there's something deeper that we can't see."

"Loss of speech can be caused by severe emotional trauma, right?" Leonard asked. Geoff nodded. "I think that's what we're looking at. Kid was abused."

"That much is obvious," Geoff said, voice dripping disgust. "I hope you handled the abuser appropriately." The temperature in the room dropped at least ten degrees.

"I did," Leonard said tightly. He met Jim's eyes briefly. He knew. He definitely knew. Geoff was scratching off something on his prescription pad. He tore off a sheet of paper and handed it to Leonard.

  
"Dermal ointment. It'll help with the scarring. And that's a number for a therapist." Leonard took the paper and folded it carefully, putting it in his pocket. "She specialises in abusive relationships. Are you gonna call his mother?"

"I guess I have to," Leonard said. "The guy mentioned taking him away from his family." Geoff's eyes were dark with restrained anger.

"You did good, Leonard." Geoff clapped his shoulder in a strong grip. "You did good." Leonard did _not_ burst into helpless sobs, and quietly motioned for Jim to put his shirt back on. Jim wriggled into Leonard's Georgia State shirt and hopped from the table. He and Geoff exchanged a few quick words with their hands, and then Jim turned to Leonard, a secret hidden behind that smile. "Don't hesitate to visit, Jim," Geoff chuckled as they slipped out of the room. Jim waved, his other hand reaching up to grip the inside of Leonard's elbow. Leonard's entire arm inexplicably went warm at the touch, and it soothed him. They walked back to Leonard's truck like that, arm in arm, and returned to the apartment in silence.

"Thanks for getting my truck started this morning," Leonard said, locking the door behind them as they entered the apartment. Jim nodded. "Where'd you learn that?" Jim shrugged absently, waving his hands in a sort of _here and there_ motion. "You work on all cars or just boxes on wheels?" Leonard asked, smirking. Jim smiled and shrugged again. "Jim," Leonard's tone caused him to pause. "Do you want me to call your mother?"

Jim paled, a shadow falling over his face as he turned away from Leonard. He shook his head, eyes flickering shut.

"Okay," Leonard said quietly. "When you're ready to go home, let me know. You can use my phone, computer, whatever." Leonard moved into the apartment, dropping his bag on the floor beside the couch. He flopped onto the couch with a heavy sigh, splaying out his limbs over the cushions. When he opened his eye, he saw Jim, kneeling on the floor beside the couch, looking at him with hesitant expectation in his eyes. Leonard groaned. "Look, kid, I don't know what he made you do, but I'm not gonna do it. There's consensual BDSM and then there's flat out torture. If you wanna get involved in the good kind, I'll send you some people, but I ain't gonna do it with you so broke, all right? It wouldn't be good for you, and it wouldn't be fair to your new Dom."

Jim kept staring at him, confusion seeping into his features.

"Get off yer knees, kid," Leonard grumbled, patting the couch. "Just... act like you're not in a scene for a bit. You're giving me a headache." Jim lowered himself onto the couch gingerly, watching Leonard the entire time. Leonard steadfastly ignored him and dragged out one of his textbooks. He flipped it open to start his homework, and to his surprise, Jim reached for it. "You wanna read this?" Leonard burst out incredulously. Jim nodded. "All right. It's so boring it put Robin Williams to sleep, but go for it, kid." The heavy book thumped into Jim's lap and he flicked the cover over. Leonard shook his head and pulled out another subject.

The next thing he knew, fingers gently carded through his hair. He felt extremely warm and content, a soft pressure covered him, and his cheek was mashed against something squishy and beautifully soft. Not a textbook cover. Leonard groaned, a soft breath of unadulterated joy, and shifted. Something clattered to the floor, jerking him from his pleasant state of being. He lifted his head and blinked sleep back from his eyes. Dammit. He had fallen asleep doing homework again. He yawned, trying to sit up. His arms stretched, pushing back a blanket that had magically been placed over him. He glared at it, confused. This was from his bed. He turned, and found himself face to face with Jim. Jim, whose fingers were still drifting through his hair. Who was close enough Leonard could see the silver in his eyes. "Oh," Leonard breathed.

And Jim kissed him.


	3. Chapter 3

Intense heat flared in Leonard's chest. Jim... Jim was a fucking _kisser_. He moved his lips over Leonard's like it was an art, drawing him forward, impossibly closer, until Leonard lost his balance and they both tumbled from the couch in a pile of limbs and soft cotton. Leonard landed with a restrained grunt, Jim's elbow digging into his stomach.

"Ow," he muttered. The sound broke the spell. Jim lifted himself onto his elbows, head hanging down against Leonard's chest. His shoulders shook violently, but when he turned his head, he laughed. Full-blown, body-shaking, gut-aching laughter, and Leonard found himself following. He flung his arm out on the floor and just laughed. They clung to each other for support, laughing and gasping for breath as they shook.

They quieted about the same time, Jim wiping his eyes before dragging his fingers along Leonard's jaw. "No, Jim," Leonard whispered. "Not right now." Leonard reached up and grasped Jim's hand, pulling it away from his face. Jim hid the hurt well, pushing himself off of Leonard without another move. He tugged the blanket away from Leonard so the med student could stand. Leonard got to his feet and straightened his shirt. "Well this is awkward," he muttered after a moment. "I'm going to make dinner. You... keep reading... or whatever..."

Leonard beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen, managing to lose himself in dinner prep for at least an hour. He dished out the food to find the table already set, Jim waiting at one end. Not kneeling, but standing behind one of the chairs, patiently. Leonard put the hot plates on the table and sat. Jim waited until he had started eating before he picked up his own utensils.

They both retired early, unable to falter through the awkward silence Leonard had created. Leonard wasn't worried about the kid getting out, so he crashed on the couch amidst the textbooks and notebooks he had been trying to study from. If the kid wanted to leave he'd leave. If he stole Leonard's crappy ride, then more power to him. He'd have a hell of a time getting it to go more than a block.

Leonard was ripped from sleep sometime around three, blinking and dazed. He sat up, glancing around. Something had woken him... That. His attention focused on his bedroom door. He clawed his way up from the cushy sofa and staggered towards his bedroom on leaden legs.

He reached into the room and slammed his hand against the light switch, wincing as the room flooded with brightness. Jim was on the floor, curled on his side, face strained as he gasped for breath. "Goddamit, kid," Leonard hissed as he lurched forward. "Gonna put me in an early grave." He reached for Jim's shoulder. "Jim, hey, wake up. It's just a dream, kid." Jim lashed out. Leonard jerked back, grabbing at Jim's wrists. "Whoa, it's just me, kid. Wake up. Come on. Yer all right. Come on." He reached between Jim's flailing arms and gripped the kid's jaw. " _Jim!_ " he snapped.

Jim's lungs heaved, air exploding from his lips as his eyes flashed open, glancing around the room wildly before settling on Leonard's face. "Yo," Leonard murmured. Jim closed his eyes and let his head hit the ground, chest fluttering with shallow, rapid breaths. "Relax, Jim, it was just a dream. Don't hyperventilate on me, now," Leonard warned. "Breathe deep, Jim. Deeper." Leonard touched his hand to Jim's chest, pressing lightly. Jim's breathing evened, a long, stressful process, and Leonard finally removed his hand. Jim sat up, wrapping his arms around himself, shivering.

  
"Kid, when I let you have my room, I wanted you in the _bed_ ," Leonard said, waving at the unkempt queen. "I don't give my bed up lightly, and I'm a bit miffed you've been letting me sleep on the couch if you're not gonna use it. That is one comfortable bed." Jim cringed away from him, and Leonard clamped his jaw shut. "I'm not angry, kid. I was joking. Okay, look, up in the bed with you. Come on."

Leonard hefted Jim onto the mattress, wrestling lifeless limbs under the covers. "Okay? Isn't that much more comfortable?" Leonard asked, panting slightly. Jim didn't answer. "G'night, kid. Stop giving me grey hairs." Leonard pushed his hand through Jim's hair as he turned. Jim's fingers snatched Leonard's wrist, holding him firm. "What is it, kid?" Leonard asked softly. Jim stared up at him. "You want me in here with you? All right. I'll bring my blanket from the couch and crash on the floor-"

Jim shook his head, pulling slightly on Leonard's arm. Leonard hesitated. "I don't think that's such a good idea," he said. Jim's grip didn't waver. Leonard sighed. "Okay. Shift over. You better not hog the blankets."

Leonard climbed into bed, pressing his face into the mattress gratefully. So soft... much more comfortable than the couch. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep in two days... A hand cautiously lowered onto his bare shoulder and he tensed, not expecting it. He forced himself to relax, and the kid kept his hand there, lightly brushing skin.

The next morning found Jim plastered to Leonard, chin digging into a shoulder blade. His skin was hot against Leonard's under the cover, slick with sweat where their bodies touched. His breath huffed out in slow, even breaths along Leonard's back, and while he couldn't feel his arm, he didn't want to move. Jim's arm curled low on his spine, fingertips brushing ticklish skin. It couldn't have been more perfect.

With tremendous force of will, Leonard pushed himself up, sliding out of Jim's octopus-grasp and from the bed. Jim shifted into the warmth he had vacated without waking. Leonard padded from the room quietly to grab breakfast.

Jim stumbled out a bit later, halfway through the international news section of Leonard's paper, and sat himself down beside Leonard. Leonard pushed a plate of food at him. Jim ate it without hesitation.

They fell into an easy routine. Jim kept himself busy while Leonard was at class by cleaning the apartment and pouring through Leonard's medical books. Jim painstakingly taught him basic sign language, patiently repeating motions over and over until Leonard got it. Leonard was a smart guy, but this was learning a whole new language, dammit. Jim smiled and laughed, his nightmares coming less frequently with each passing day. They were almost domestic.

Leonard should have known. He sort of knew it had been coming, since the first moment he seen Jim's insanely blue eyes. That... thing... had been growing in his chest. It was different than how he felt about Jocelyn, but the basics were there. Like how Jim's smile could reduce him to a stammer. Or how Jim's touch seemed to light a fire along his spine.

He shouldn't have been surprised, then, when Jim shoved him back against the bed of his truck, dragging him onto the vehicle. Chilled plastic ridges dug into his back. Jim tasted of lake water. Leonard hissed into Jim's mouth as Jim dragged his hot hand along Leonard's bare chest. Leonard couldn't help it. He arched into the touch with a barely repressed moan. Christ. He was putty in this kid's hands...

"Aren't we a little old to be makin' out in the back of my truck?" Leonard groaned. Jim's answer was to suck _hard_ on his collarbone, intense enough to leave a mark. Leonard yelped, hand flying to Jim's hair. The songs from the speakers by the lake drifted up lazily through the hot pre-summer air, reaching the parking lot along with chatty murmurs from the other party-goers. Jim tapped out _old man_ against his ribs in Morse code. Leonard scowled. "I'll 'old man' you. C'mere." Leonard hauled Jim's face to his.

  
"McCoy! McCoy! Where'd ya go, man!?" Someone yelled up from the beach. Leonard paused. Maybe if he held still, they wouldn't come up to the parking lot...

"Leave him alone! He's screwing Kirk in the back of his truck!" A girl's voice called from slightly further away. Leonard flushed clear down to his chest, a heady rush of blood that only worsened when one of his lab partners poked his head over the bed of his truck and saw them.

"Yo. You're on our volleyball team when you're done," Smithson said with a cocky grin. "Have fun screwing Kirk. Lizzie says to give him one for her." Smithson pushed himself away from the truck, trotting back to the beach to rejoin the End of Midterms lake party. Leonard groaned.

"Good god..." He closed his eyes. Jim didn't seem to have any intentions of slowing down, much less stopping, as he reached hot fingers under the waistline of Leonard's swim trunks. "Stop!" Leonard gasped, grasping Jim's wrist. Jim looked at him curiously. Leonard stared at him. "Good lord. You're an exhibitionist," he breathed incredulously. A slow grin spread Jim's lips. Jim's fingers were tantalising. Leonard made a hasty decision. "Whatever. They all know anyway. Grab the sheet."

Jim reached over Leonard for the dark blue sheet they had brought along as a picnic blanket, and draped it over both of them. Jim's body was awash in blue-coloured light that almost drowned out the shade of his eyes. Leonard wrestled with him, trying to peel off Jim's trunks quicker than Jim was getting into his. Jim nipped at his lips, and Leonard bit back, trying to taste his skin under the kiss of lake water. Leonard wrapped one of his legs around Jim's, hooking the ankle as he pushed his groin up into Jim's hand. Jim's breathless chuckle seemed muffled under the increasing heat of their cover.

"The last time I had a quickie I was in high school," Leonard grumbled when Jim finally won the battle with his clothes, tossing his swim trunks aside with a flourish. "Help me out here, kid."

Jim reached for his own trunks and wriggled free of them with Leonard's help, before practically pouncing on Leonard's skin. He scraped his teeth along Leonard's throat, reaching between them to grip Leonard's prick firmly in hand. Leonard dug his fingers into Jim's back, and the kid's responding moan sent unbearable heat coursing down Leonard's spine. He was fairly certain he would suffocate under this sheet, and he wasn't so certain he cared- as long as Jim kept doing _that_ with his hand.

Jim stroked him, pacing with the unrepentant bucking of Leonard's hips. His erection pressed against Leonard's thigh, scalding with each accidental brush. Jim brought him to the edge and gracefully shoved him over. Leonard choked down his cry as he came, burying his face in Jim's throat, smelling sand and water and Georgian summer air. " _Christ_ ," he groaned as Jim pulled back slightly, one hand hooking under a leg to lift it.

"Don't you dare," Leonard rasped out. Jim paused. "Not without lubrication." Jim fucking _rolled his eyes_ and merely pressed his prick against Leonard's arse. Leonard had _taught_ him that eye-roll, dammit!

Jim pressed firm fingers into Leonard's hips, rutting against his arse without any intent to penetrate. Leonard gripped his shoulders, riding it, until Jim came silently with a final snap of his hips. He lowered Leonard's leg against the truck bed with a shaking hand, and leaned over him, panting.

"You gonna lift the sheet or let us die of carbon dioxide poisoning?" Leonard asked, lifting a hand to wipe sweat from Jim's brow. Jim tugged back the sheet and Leonard sighed as fresh air washed over him. Jim, sitting up, focused his attention towards the beach. "They playing volleyball yet?"

Jim nodded. _Looks like Lizzie's team is winning_ , he signed.

Leonard couldn't tear his eyes away from Jim. He blamed it on the post-coital haze crowding his consciousness. Jim's features were almost blacked out, back-lit by the setting sun. It was like something out of a sappy romantic movie, the way the sun caressed his skin and spiked around his head, giving him the ethereal appearance of an otherworldly creature. Leonard could blame it on the orgasm. He could.

  
"I think I love you," he blurted out breathlessly before he could stop himself. Jim glanced sharply at him, his entire body locking tight. His legs practically turned into stone, tangled up in Leonard's. Frantic to soothe him, Leonard ran his fingers along Jim's ribs and chest, trying to erase his stupid admission. " 'm sorry. I didn't- well- I meant it but- aw hell..." he muttered, almost to himself. Jim's hearing wasn't gone, though, and he listened with wide, terrified eyes. "Just forget I said it, kid," Leonard murmured finally. Way to ruin the afterglow, genius, Leonard reprimanded himself.

He struggled into a sitting position as Jim pressed himself hard against the sides of the truck bed. Leonard grabbed a couple sanitising wipes to clean themselves up, and they both wordlessly dressed. Leonard hopped down from his truck, his flip-flops slapping against the pavement. Man. He had screwed that up pretty good. No wonder Jocelyn had left him at the altar.

Movement caught his eye across the lot. He glanced up, wondering if Jenaenna had finally decided to show up, and his heart froze in his chest. A sole figure approached, making steadily for Leonard's truck and _not_ dressed for a beach party.

 _Oh thank god, he's alive._ Irrationally. The first thing through Leonard's head. _He hadn't killed anyone. He wasn't a murderer._

The man lifted his arm, gun glinting in the undiffused sunlight. Leonard didn't even hear the shots. Searing, blinding pain exploded in his chest and he staggered back against his truck, sliding to the ground. Someone screamed over him. Sounded like his name, but he wasn't sure. The sounds were fuzzing together in his ears and he couldn't fucking breathe.

Jim's face swam into view sometime later, his mouth moving. Leonard could barely hear him. "That's not how I imagined your voice," he tried to say. Jim wasn't listening, or couldn't hear him, and _christ_ he looked so scared. "Don't worry, don't worry, I'm fine..." His words were choked off by blood in his mouth, sliding down his chin grossly.

Everything went black.

  
"So wait. You're telling me this guy here, murdered someone?"

"No, no. Well, sort of. More like attempted murder..."

Leonard groaned, sensations slowly returning to him. That voice sounded like Bobby's... They must have him on the good stuff...

The low rumble of voices interspersed with beeps from machines he knew the names of, but couldn't for the life of him remember. He couldn't really remember anything, actually... He figured he should be more concerned about that... but he couldn't be bothered at the moment...

"He's awake," the one voice murmured. Leonard shifted, trying to open his eyes. He didn't recognise that voice, and his eyelids felt like they were lead weights. He managed to get them open almost halfway, and Jim's face greeted him, solemn and pale, merely inches away. "Hey," Jim said. The owner of the not-Bobby voice.

"You speak," Leonard rasped. Jim stretched to the night stand beside what had to be a hospital bed and grabbed a cup of ice chips. He slipped one between Leonard's lips gently, and the touch of water to his tongue was like a godsend.

"I speak," Jim said tightly, obviously feigning a light demeanour. "You're lucky that you're speaking."

"Wha' happn'd?" Leonard croaked. Each word was a fight, flung out from a chest that refused to help him. Jim touched his face with aching gentleness.

"Sleep. When you're lucid I'll tell you everything," Jim said quietly. Leonard didn't have to be told twice.

He woke again feeling the tight, tense feeling of pain lurking just under the surface of his consciousness. If he moved, his entire body would scream in agony. He held himself very still, trying to take measured breaths around a simmering pain in his chest. Movement to his left caught his attention, and he carefully shifted his head. Jim sat beside him, staring at him. His face was pale, and he had dark circles under his eyes. A butterfly bandage arched over the line of his nose and tape bridged a cut on his cheek.

"How do you feel?" Jim asked.

"Like I've been shot," Leonard groaned hoarsely. He could remember a bit more. "Tell me," he demanded.

"Alex wasn't dead. Whatever you did to him didn't work. It was just bad luck he happened to pass the lake while we were there. Your girl isn't exactly subtle," Jim said woodenly. A wry smirk lifted the corner of his lip slightly, only to disappear instantly. "He got off two shots before his gun jammed."

"Amatuer," Leonard grunted. "Always keep your gun clean." Jim ignored him.

"One pierced your shoulder, going through with a clean wound. The other lodged in your chest, splitting one of your lungs open." He spoke with the cool precision of someone who had memorised all the facts in order to keep himself sane. "It was a sixteen hour surgery to get it out." His voice faltered. He inhaled, trying to compose himself. Horrified, Leonard reached out for him, and Jim caught his hand in surprise, gripping it firmly between both of his.

"What happened?" Leonard asked. Obviously he was still alive. This... Alex person had been handled somehow. Jim's voice grew low, violence shuddering just beneath the surface.

"I beat the shit out of him with his own gun and put two bullets in his skull," Jim whispered harshly. The words hung in the air, cold and terrifying. "There was so much blood. I thought he had killed you."

"Good thing the party was full of medical students," Leonard managed past his shock. He tightened his grip on Jim's hand. Jim moved his chair closer, leaning against the bedside, one hand moving to Leonard's hair.

"You've been unconscious for almost a week," Jim murmured.

"Have you slept at all?" Leonard asked, slightly accusatory. Jim didn't even bother to lie. He shook his head miserably, fingers still carding through Leonard's hair. Leonard scowled. "Get over here, idiot." He shifted, gasping as pain flared, but persisted until he made enough room for Jim to slide onto the bed with him. The kid sank against him with a barely restrained sob.

  
"God, Bones, I thought he was going to take you away from me," Jim hissed fiercely against his throat, tucking himself close to Leonard's body. "I let him take so much from me but he was trying to take you and I-I couldn't let him. Jesus christ." Jim moaned, a low, broken sound that tore Leonard's chest as surely as the bullet had.

"It's all right, kid," Leonard murmured, gripping Jim close with his good arm. "It's all right. He ain't gonna take anything from you ever again." Jim's harsh pants settled finally, as the glaring red numbers of the hospital clock shone 3:08 am.

The nurse sighed happily when she entered the room to Jim curled haplessly against Leonard. The med student scowled and rolled his eyes, recognising the nurse from one of his classes. "How do you feel, Len?" the nurse asked, entirely too cheerful.

"Leonard," he bit out, irrationally ticked off by this woman smiling at them. He'd got a hand job in public but couldn't stand being seen cuddling? Priorities, man. "And I think I'm sitting around seven on a one to ten scale. Can I see those charts?"

The nurse, bless her heart, kept that grin on her face as she skirted just out of Leonard's reach. "Aht! No doctoring for you; you're the patient today, sir. I'll see what I can do about your pain meds, all right? We had to lessen them slightly to make sure there was no neural damage to the tissue. Do you need anything? Do you think you can take some food?"

"I am hungry," Leonard admitted, her suggestion practically lurching his stomach into action. "Listen, what happened to this one, here?" Leonard asked, nodding to Jim, who slept soundly.

"Oh, him?" The nurse pursed her lips, trying to remember. "A few abrasions across the knuckles, split but not broken nose, trauma induced laceration across his cheek... Nothing serious. Looks like he got into a fight, to be honest." She smiled, her eyes soft. "He hasn't left your side since you got here. You're a lucky man, Mr Grump-pants."

"You have no idea," Leonard murmured, eyes fixed on Jim's head. The kid's mouth hung open as he slept the deep slumber of one completely at ease. A light knock on the door caught their attention. A chill cascaded down Leonard's spine when he saw Rick standing there, in full uniform.

"May I?" Rick asked, gesturing to the room. Leonard nodded, swallowing hard as the nurse made her exit. Rick drew up the chair Jim had been sitting in and collapsed into it. "So. You're in a bit of a pickle, aren't ya?" he said without preamble.

"What are the charges?" Leonard asked, resignation in his voice. Rick leaned back in the chair.

"There are none," he said. Leonard blinked at the cop, confused.

"Sorry?"

"Every single student witness swears it was self-defence," Rick said. "You know what I find interesting, though, is that the unfortunate bastard we just bagged lives at the street address I gave you a few weeks ago." Leonard didn't meet his eyes. Rick leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees. "McCoy. I know you've helped me and my buds out more times than I can count, but if you go off half-cocked like that again... It won't be pretty. You got really damn lucky this time."

"Trust me, I know," Leonard murmured through a tight throat. His fingers tightened slightly in Jim's hair.

"The reason I gave you the address was because I know you don't abuse your... 'privileges'. It had to have been serious for you to ask me anything in an official capacity. McCoy, if you do something like this again, I will come to your apartment, kick down your fucking door, and handcuff you to your table. So help me god." Rick paused. "You hear me, son?"

"Yessir," Leonard replied automatically, despite the fact that Rick was precisely his age.

"I'm rather fond of you, man, I'd hate to lose you to something stupid." Rick reached out and ruffled Leonard's hair. He scowled as Rick smirked. "So this is the kid who 'self-defenced' two holes in the vic's brain?" Leonard nodded. Rick leaned over, getting a better look. "Good god. That's James Kirk."

"Wait, Rick!"

Rick had already pulled his phone out, standing as he put it to his ear. "Yea get me the commissioner. Sir, I've found James Kirk. Yes, he's alive and well-"

  
"Goddamit, Rick, will you listen to me?" Leonard hissed, pushing himself up as best he could through the pain and Jim plastered to his side. Rick steadfastly ignored him, murmuring into his phone for a few more minutes before hanging up.

"I'm sorry, McCoy, I had to. There's a national bulletin out for him. He's been missing for months," Rick said shortly.

"He doesn't want to see his family," Leonard burst out. Bad idea. Pain flared, licking through his chest with white-hot tendrils of fire. He collapsed against the pillow with a sharp gasp. He barely felt Rick's hand at his shoulder.

"Easy there," Rick said softly. "I'm sorry. I had to."

"Get out," Leonard groaned.

"All right. I'll stop back to see how you're doing." Rick gave his shoulder a brief squeeze before leaving, closing the door quietly behind him. Leonard lay back against the pillow, breathing harshly. Jim stirred under Leonard's hand. He woke with a sleepy grin, his hand running over Leonard's chest.

"Hey," Jim murmured.

"Hey," Leonard whispered back. Jim shifted, pressing a kiss just over Leonard's heart through the hospital gown, holding for longer than necessary. Leonard could almost feel the flutter of his heart against Jim's lips. "Listen, Jim. The cops were just here. They called your mom. She's gonna be told where you are."

Jim stiffened, lifting his head to face Leonard. "I tried to stop him, but he didn't listen. I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Jim sighed. He pushed himself up over Leonard. "It would have happened eventually. I just..." He bit his lip. "When you asked me before... I couldn't let my mother see me like that. I'm all right now." He nodded sharply, as if trying to convince himself. "I can face her now. I can face myself now." He paused. "I can face you now." Leonard smiled, dragging a hand through Jim's hair. "It's time I let her know I'm all right. I'm ready."

"Need me with you?" Leonard asked. Jim turned his head to Leonard's hand, pressing a kiss to the palm.

"I want to say yes," Jim murmured against his skin. "She wouldn't understand, Bones. I... I have to do that on my own."

"What is that?" Leonard asked, deciding to latch onto the part of conversation that didn't hurt. "Why do you keep calling me that?"

"You don't know?" Jim asked, obviously perplexed. Leonard shook his head slowly. "Bones. Sawbones. It's what they called doctors during the Civil War."

"I'm not a doctor yet, kid," Leonard pointed out. Jim chuckled.

"Well, I'll let you play doctor with me, how about that?" he asked, voice low and hot against Leonard's ear. Leonard returned the gentle laugh. "I have a thing for doctors."

"Do you?" Leonard mimicked wryly.

"I have a thing for... everything, really," Jim admitted without a trace of shame, drawing back to run a finger over Leonard's jaw and lips. "That's how I originally got involved with Alex. He said he could do anything." Leonard was quiet, listening, one hand in Jim's hair reassuringly. "I didn't think I had any boundaries."

"But..." Leonard urged gently. Jim smiled sardonically.

"But I did. He didn't like that. Thought it was part of the... 'game'." Jim shuddered. "That's when he called you." Jim shrugged. "He drugged me," Jim said in response to Leonard's unspoken question. "Once I started... escaping out over and over again... He kept me drugged."

"Jesus, Jim," Leonard breathed. His fingers curled at the nape of Jim's neck. Jim closed his eyes, relishing the touch.

"Yea, I was pretty whacked out when you found me," Jim admitted quietly. "But the important thing... is that you found me."

  
They released him a few days later, and he limped into his apartment, Jim under his good arm supporting him. Just the walk to the bedroom was exhausting. He slumped into the plush mattress with a long-suffering sigh. "Can I get you anything?" Jim asked, standing over him.

"A new body," Leonard moaned. The pain was a low throb all over his chest, tugging and annoying whenever he tried to breathe. He glanced at Jim, expecting a smart retort, and saw him staring out the window that led to the street below. "What?"

"Shit," Jim murmured, moving to the window.

"What?" Leonard repeated, trying to sit up.

"My mother," Jim said, his voice flat. "And every single paparazzi in a hundred mile radius."

"Like hell they're getting in here," Leonard hissed, forcing himself upright. Jim rounded the bed and was under his arm instantly.

"It's all right," Jim murmured. "I'll head them off. Stay here. Don't strain anything, all right?" Jim lowered him onto the bed.

"You better come back," Leonard growled as Jim moved for the door. Jim turned, a slight smile on his lips, before he left. Leonard heard the apartment door open and close. And then silence. Leonard waited. Shadows shifted, lengthening and eventually enveloping the room. He closed his eyes.

A light hand at his shoulder woke him. "Bones." Jim's voice. Leonard opened his eyes and peered through the darkness. He cast around blindly for the clock beside his bed.

"Wha'time-zit?" he mumbled.

"It's nine," Jim supplied. "Bones, I have to go."

"You just left," Leonard pointed out, confused.

"I have to go home, Bones," Jim said softly. "Back to New York."

New York.

"But we're in Georgia." The confusion didn't abate. Jim wasn't making sense.

"Bones, wake up, please." Jim sighed. Leonard tried to focus, blinking furiously, trying to set his eyes on Jim's face. "I have to go home. Are you awake?"

"Yea, yea, I'm awake. When?"

"Right now. I'm leaving, Bones." Jim kept his voice level. "I'll send you money to pay you back for putting me up, all right?"

"I don't want your fucking money," Leonard ground out, much more sharply than he intended. Silence settled over them. Jim cleared his throat.

"Bones-"

"Just go," Leonard whispered harshly. "It's all right. Just go." Jim opened his mouth to say something, but closed it without a word. He rubbed a hand over his face and stood.

"Good bye, Bones."

Leonard grunted, rolling over in the bed. He listened to Jim's footsteps fade down as he moved for the door. Pressing his face into the mattress, he did his best to muffle the voices screaming in his head. He had known Jim for what, a month, tops? Of course he'd leave. He had been kidnapped for fuck's sake. This wasn't just like Jocelyn. He had known Jocelyn for years, had planned and envisioned a future together.

Still. He couldn't help feeling he was being walked out on again.

  
Days of physical therapy dragged into weeks of agonising arm lifts and shoulder rolls. The weeks melted into months of almost overpowering loneliness as he tried to get his life back on track after being blind-sided by the tornado named Jim Kirk. His classmates finally stopped asking about Jim, and his co-workers at the call service offered their support best they could. It was all Leonard could do to roll out of bed every morning to face another day of classes and therapy sessions.

"Leonard, you've got to do something to snap yourself out of this. The new chicks are all scared of you," Bobby suggested one night while they both waited for a call. He tipped his chair back far enough that Leonard kind of hoped gravity would catch him. It'd be good for a laugh. "Take a road trip or something. Go into the city. Just fuckin' do something, man."

So Leonard took his advice. The next day he skipped his classes, packed up his truck, and headed down the first road that ran south.

And broke down in the middle of deserted highway.

"Fucking hell," Leonard hissed, slamming his hand against the wheel. He continued his litany of curses as he kicked his door open and climbed out. "Seriously!? You break down now, after months of faithful service. Is this some sort of punishment? I've taken such good care of you, baby, and this is how you treat me?" He hauled the hood up and coughed as steam and smoke billowed up into his face. "Argh!"

He slammed his foot into the fender and whirled, letting his back thud against the front. He slid to the ground, legs splayed out in front of him. Tugging his phone free, he took one look at it and tossed it on the roadside. No service. "I'm stranded. Great." He sighed, rolling his head against the hot metal of his Chevy.

The intense Georgian sun beat relentlessly on the blacktop, sending ripples of heat into the air as far as the eye could see. Leonard wiped sweat from his neck as he pushed himself to his feet and walked around the back of his truck. The bed of his truck dropped down without issue and he hopped into it, cracking open the cooler he had brought with water. From his height he could see a bit more of the road. No cars in either direction.

" _Fuck_!" he yelled, startling a flock of birds in the palm trees just off the road. "God fucking _dammit_!"

He flopped down in the bed of his truck, resigned. Nothing he could do but wait till someone drove through. Which could be hours.

Or minutes.

He heard the roar of an engine growing closer. A red convertible crested over the horizon, speeding towards him on the straightaway. Leonard hopped down from his truck and flailed at the car, hollering for him to stop. To his great surprise, the car was already slowing as it approached. It rolled to a stop just behind Leonard's truck and the driver's side door opened smoothly. Leonard's stomach dropped out when the man took off his sun glasses.

"She's not giving you any trouble, is she, Bones?" Jim leaned against his car, shit-eating grin wide across his face.

"You... But... New York..." Leonard stammered as Jim walked around his truck towards the smoking engine. He rolled up the sleeves of his pristine white shirt and went elbow deep into the Chevy's engine.

"Yes. Me. New York," Jim said while he worked. Leonard couldn't stop staring. "Me. Georgia." He flashed Leonard a grin. The grin faltered when he noticed Leonard was still shell-shocked. Straightening, he rested one hand on the raised hood of Leonard's truck. "Bones," he started slowly. "You didn't... You didn't think I'd leave you..." His voice trailed off, all trace of amusement gone from his face. "Oh my god, Bones. Come here." Jim reached for him.

"Engine grease-" Leonard protested weakly.

"Shut up, you stupid man," Jim hissed, gripping Leonard's face and jerking him in for a rough kiss. Leonard grabbed the front of Jim's shirt and held on, not caring that he was sweating all over Jim's million-dollar blouse, or that Jim was smearing oil on his face. He shoved Jim against his truck, feeling the hard lines of his body press firmly to his own. "Oh my god, you are such an idiot," Jim panted into his mouth.

  
"What was I supposed to think?" Leonard growled. "You leave and then I don't hear from you in months. I thought you went back to your wife or something."

"I'm not married!" Jim burst out, shaking with repressed laughter, body warm against Leonard's. "I had to get some things sorted for the move."

Leonard jerked back. "Move? Where are you moving?" California? God what a commute that would be.

Jim stared at him as if he had grown two heads. "I bought that place on Wilker Street," he said warily. Leonard blinked.

"But Wilker Street is... two blocks from my apartment," Leonard said haltingly. Jim waited for it to sink in. "You're... moving here?" A nod. "But... But why?" he burst.

Without a sound, Jim slid gracefully to his knees, eyes on Leonard's the entire time. He knelt, hands crossed at the wrists behind his back, and waited. Leonard suddenly had trouble breathing.

He got down on his knees, with much less finesse, and cupped Jim's face in shaking hands. "Okay," he murmured past his heart lodged in his throat. He tugged Jim in for a kiss, hot, wet, and intensely perfect.


End file.
